"That was weird," pronounced my movie mate after viewing Her on Sunday.
"Yes, but also strangely compelling," I said.
Whether you think Her is weird or compelling or both depends on your attitude toward technology, relationships, and/or long close-ups of Joaquin Phoenix's mustachioed mug. Writer/Director Spike Jonze, who specializes in The Weird And Compelling (Adaptation, Being John Malkovich, Where The Wild Things Are), has created a brilliant meditation on what constitutes "relationship" as well as the inevitable collision of humanity and technology. But unlike such tech-gone-rogue cautionary tales as I-Robot, Artificial Intelligence, The Terminator, or (fill in the name of your favorite Sci-Fi "it's learned to think!" flick), the damage is less violent but no less impactful.
I was curious to see this thought-provoking film, set in a pleasant, near-future Los Angeles where technology has advanced significantly enough to where humans can fall in love with their highly-evolved, talking computers. (It's also a future where apparently the waistlines of pants have been raised to new heights and a sort of washed-out, kindergarten yellow-orange-blue color palette has taken over fashion and design). For me, the film is a commentary on the increasing separation and isolation people feel in an increasingly digitized world, and how human connection becomes that much harder to accomplish. At the same time, Her is deeply romantic, where technology is simply the latest tool by which we express all-too-human longings and needs that require another human to satisfy. Still, whether relationships involve humans or machines, the outcome seems predictable.
By now, you know the setup: Mild-mannered writer Theodore Twombley mopes through his solitary routine, unhinged by the fact that his childhood friend-turned-wife (Rooney Mara) is now divorcing him. On a whim, he downloads a brand-new artificially intelligent OS1 operating system that promises to attune itself to his every need and thought. "Samantha," voiced with throaty enthusiasm by Scarlett Johanssen, not only manages the details of Twombley's external life, but her refreshing candor and curiosity also gain her entry into his internal life as well. When she inquires about the cause of his marriage's demise, Twombley says, "I hid myself away in the relationship." It's a line that any insecure, commitment-phobic, life-distracted person can relate to. It becomes easier, therefore, for Twombley to open up to a consciousness and personality that is always accepting, always supportive, and always there -- until, of course, she's not.
So much of filmmaking wisdom is of the "show, don't tell" variety, but Jonze's script allows the conversations and discoveries between Theodore and Samantha to roll out in organic fashion. These are the kind of getting-to-know-you moments of information, teasing, inside jokes, confession, and dream sharing that can be the foundations of love. Too many movies have characters exchange names and then fall into bed, so this kind of back and forth feels refreshing for a while. Until it goes on too long and starts to feel way too precious and we grow tired of staring at Joaquin's lip fur as he listens to Samantha purr.
There are some truly funny moments in Her, first having to do with the nature of his writing job, then with the 3-D video game he diverts himself with in the evenings (director Jonze voices the impertinent "Alien Child") as well as the "Perfect Mom" video game Theodore's pal Amy (Amy Adams) is programming. The shot of Theodore walking outside, deep in conversation with his OS device, which widens to show that everyone on the street is similarly engaged, is thoroughly ironic. There are also some awkward moments, mostly having to do with sex. "You're a creepy man," accuses a drunken blind date (Olivia Wilde), who only moments before had been engaging Theodore in French kisses and pleas for commitment. And Samantha's plan to utilize a human surrogate in her relationship with Theodore is painful to watch.
Ultimately, though, Her made me want to cry. You will no doubt be thinking, "Why, for heaven's sake?" Some see this film as being hopeful about love. I -- the repressed romantic -- see it as hopeless. With technology becoming more and more complicated and advanced, and more of the world being sucked into its embrace, Her seems less like a cautionary tale and more like a Coming Attractions reel for the future.
FYI: Jonze picked up a Best Screenplay honor for Her at the Golden Globe on Jan. 12.
No comments:
Post a Comment